“Well done. It’s dangerous, so please keep your distance like that a bit longer.”
‘What the hell is going on here?’
That was {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} my reaction the mont I saw the black flas begin to rise from the teacup in my hand after nearly five minutes of desperate effort.
“I’ll say it again: I really could’ve died, you know?”
‘For the love of god—soone help already...’
My original plan had been simple: use a trace of white magic to subtly expose the lingering remnants of black magic in the teacup, giving rdia a discreet hint.
Most people wouldn’t even dream of trying sothing so dangerous, considering how black magic was treated, but I had one thing going for .
Do you know why the Lingarden family—riddled with internal issues—had managed to maintain its façade for this long?
It was because we carried the hereditary aptitude for white magic.
Sure, that lineage was on the verge of being cut off for reasons I’d rather not get into... but still, white magic was one of the few talents I possessed. I had trained it to the point where I could make use of it in a situation like this.
That’s why I’d planned to channel just the faintest trace of white magic into the cup, enough that only rdia would notice it.
And yet—how the hell did it end up like this?
If I wasn’t careful, rdia might mistake for a black mage.
And if that happened, I was as good as dead.
Because to rdia, black mages weren’t just enemies—they were vermin.
Even in the ga, rdia slaughtered every black mage she encountered.
It didn’t matter if they were direct enemies or tangentially related; if black magic was involved, they died—period.
Even the Emperor—yes, the Emperor, the sun of the Empire—wasn’t spared from her obsession.
“That Emperor was quite the character, huh...”
In the ga, he had the highest overall stats and the second-highest chance of being the final boss after rdia herself.
And yet, simply because of a connection to black magic, he was eliminated in nearly every route by her hand.
And now here I was—brazenly showing black magic flas in front of that very sa person.
“So, this is the ‘interesting thing’ you ntioned?”
As expected, her patience was beginning to run dry.
“What kind of reaction am I supposed to give to that, exactly?”
She was exuding killing intent, her right hand trembling ever so slightly. My chest tightened just watching her.
‘It should’ve just been a small, simple magical stone that fit inside a teacup. Why is it reacting like this!?’
If I didn’t want to be killed on the spot, I had to find a way to explain this runaway magical stone—one that had gone berserk the mont it reacted to my white magic.
Normally, the proper thod in a situation like this would be to flood it with white magic to cancel out the black magic.
But unfortunately, that wasn’t an option for .
Because—well, this was embarrassing—but my white magic kind of... sucks.
Typical white magic radiates warm, bright energy.
But the energy I was born with? For so reason, it was dark, unstable, and emitted irregular vibrations.
The elders of my family had even said—only half-joking—that it felt more unsettling than black magic itself.
Even if that was an exaggeration, it was undeniable that my white magic wasn’t normal.
Still, up until now, I’d never had any problems with the core effects of my spells.
I trained diligently and consistently, hoping to make the most of what I had... but I never imagined sothing like this would happen in my first real-world attempt.
If I had known, I might have tried experinting with black magic beforehand.
Then again, that’s forbidden. So maybe not.
In any case, now that things had co to this, there was only one solution left.
‘If I can’t use white magic, then one of the most effective ways to neutralize a black magic-infused stone is to eliminate the caster who created it.’
Of course, in the ga, the culprit behind Whitney’s poisoning was never clearly revealed.
But here, the cursed item—the teacup—was the dium.
So the most efficient thing I could do was destroy the cup.
Honestly, I wanted to just hurl it to the floor.
But if that caused the black magic to spread wildly, that’d be even worse.
So the best choice was to shatter it while keeping it protected within the bubble of my white magic.
In theory, it was perfectly safe.
Even if it slightly bent the rules of how my white magic worked, I didn’t have much choice.
“Lady rdia.”
Right. First, let’s put out the fire and then explain everything.
That soone tampered with the teacup. That she nearly killed by accident. That—
“Vermin should be dealt with the mont they show themselves, don’t you think?”
Just as I was preparing my explanation, a voice rang out.
“Actually, this teacup was—”
“Khak!”
Before I could finish my sentence, a sharp scream rang out from among the servants, a few steps away.
–Thud.
And before I could even process what was happening, a young servant with a deathly pale face clutched his chest and collapsed to the ground.
“S-Save... ...”
Trembling all over, he began crawling toward , stretching out his hand with all the strength he had left.
Wait—what the hell is this now?
“Save... ...”
“...What?”
Being engaged is seriously exhausting.
***
“Vermin should be dealt with the mont they show themselves, don’t you think?”
When Whitney uttered that strange and ominous line, rdia’s patience reached its breaking point.
‘Should I just kill him already?’
But the mont she saw what happened next, that thought was forced to the back of her mind.
“Please... this isn’t what we agreed on...”
The servant crawling toward Whitney had bloodshot white eyes, and black smoke was curling from his mouth.
With her knowledge, rdia recognized the symptoms imdiately.
It was a classic case of mana circuit backlash—a common penalty used in curses to silence victims.
“Save ...”
The servant, seemingly aware of his fate, dragged his now-useless limbs forward with sheer willpower, whispering his dying words.
“? Save you?”
Whitney, watching the whole thing with the sa unsettling calm as rdia, tilted his head slightly and asked with genuine confusion.
“Why?”
And that was the end of it.
“Ghh—”
With a wheeze, like air leaking from a deflated balloon, the servant collapsed completely.
He never lifted his head again.
“H-He’s dead...”
“...Tch.”
This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.
They had steeled themselves to serve their master, but witnessing an actual death shook even the most hardened of her subordinates.
“Why the hell is everyone blaming for this!?”
In the heavy silence that followed, only Whitney’s disgruntled muttering echoed in the garden, as he brushed the shattered remains of the teacup from his palm.
“Ha.”
That was the mont the corners of rdia’s lips curled ever so slightly.
‘So this is what he ant. He actually planned all this out.’
Just monts ago, the entire situation had felt like a checkmate even for her.
She had no idea how he pulled it off, but one thing was clear: Whitney had known the entire situation from the beginning.
He didn’t just survive—he turned the tables on her.
What could have passed as a minor mishap—an engagent candidate collapsing after ingesting so sleeping poison at a tea party—was now a major incident involving black magic and attempted murder.
And that, she had to admit, was bold.
If it had just been the forr, it could’ve been covered up using the Duke’s power—even if it caused a minor scandal.
But the mont black magic beca involved, everything got complicated.
Anyone associated with black magic, even soone of imperial blood, was subject to absolute punishnt.
Even the Emperor—considered the greatest existence in the Empire—could, depending on the circumstances, be dethroned if black magic was found to be involved.
Sure, you could say as long as no one finds out, it’s fine, but the problem was that Whitney had already set the entire board in advance.
Even if she silenced him here and now, the informants he had undoubtedly planted would deliver letters to the Imperial Palace or the Holy See within the day.
If that happened, not even the lofty na of the Duke of Embergreen would be able to protect her—she’d be standing trial for heresy by morning.
Unless Whitney’s orchestration could be proven to be a fabrication, it was all over.
And even if it could be proven, the political fallout would be enormous.
Considering the Embergreen family’s already strained relationship with the Church, even soone like rdia couldn’t help but feel a chill run down her spine.
‘But... that’s no longer a possibility.’
Because Whitney hadn’t chosen to expose the Duke’s family.
He had taken the risk of eliminating both the black mage servant and the only physical evidence with his own hands.
And judging from that servant’s reaction, the whole grueso display Whitney had just put on wasn’t sothing she had orchestrated—it was clearly unplanned.
Which ant Whitney never had any intention of accusing the family in the first place.
So then—what was his real objective?
rdia quickly spun through a few theories before settling on one.
‘It’s not the most rational scenario, but I suppose it’s still sothing I need to say.’
After all, maybe all of this—everything Whitney had just pulled off—was nothing more than a way to prove that he could match the Duke’s daughter blow for blow.
“Like I said before, I’m a white mage.”
As he said that, his gaze shifted from the corpse of the servant to rdia, his tone as calm as ever.
“I was able to detect the black magic in the teacup, and that’s why I staged this little show—to demonstrate it.”
“And that poor bastard collapsing just now?”
“I don’t know what caused it, but I can propose the most likely explanation.”
It was still a mystery how he had managed to slip a black mage in among the servants chosen directly by the household.
“There’s a third party behind all of this.”
“A third party?”
“They probably realized their plans were starting to fall apart and decided to cut ties quickly.”
To rdia, that part no longer mattered.
What did matter was that Whitney, who had just proven his ability, was now offering her a deal.
“Which ans neither of us are at fault here.”
“......”
“Do you understand?”
Only then did rdia begin to grasp Whitney’s true intent.
His talk of a third party, as absurd as it sounded, was nothing more than a logical smoke screen—sothing to serve as a future insurance policy.
And the condition for his offer of “alliance” was simple: he had to prove himself useful—and just as calculating as rdia herself.
“...Fine.”
If Whitney had truly been a black mage or shown even an ounce of sympathy for the one just now, rdia would’ve killed him where he stood.
But despite his suspicious behavior, she had seen it with her own eyes: Whitney had wielded white magic.
What’s more, regardless of the fact that it was all a setup, he had just murdered soone she suspected of being in league with black magic right in front of her.
Anyone else would’ve been too horrified to ever speak to him again.
But for rdia... that was a point in his favor.
“Let’s consider the matter settled.”
“Thank you for your understanding. In that case...”
“Tell what you want.”
And just like that, she dropped the pretense.
She stared at him and asked the question directly.
“What I want...?”
She didn’t even need to ask.
It was obvious what he’d co here for—wasn’t it?
“To marry . Is that it?”
Whitney tilted his head and scratched his cheek, but to rdia, it just looked like more performance.
“That expression doesn’t sell your lie very well. Just say what you want already.”
“Well, in that case...”
As if resigned, Whitney stared at her for a long mont... then slowly reached into his coat.
“All I need is for you to sign this.”
He pulled out an envelope with practiced ease, his smile so cold that rdia’s hand froze mid-reach.
“This is the only thing I want.”
Placing the envelope into her hand, Whitney added in a soft voice.
He wasn’t even pretending anymore—his expression had fully transford into one of wicked satisfaction.
“You’re finally showing your true face.”
“Sorry?”
“It’s infuriating, but I’ll let it slide just this once.”
Whitney smiled in return, as if it had all gone exactly the way he’d planned.
For the first ti in her life, rdia had t soone who hid the sa ruthless nature behind a mask.
And that, more than anything else, made her trust him. It was exhilarating.
That was why she’d held back until now—why she’d tested him instead of simply getting rid of him.
“Well... I’ll take my ti to think it over and respond later.”
“Of course. If this cooperation leads to risk or failure, I’ll just... escort Sir Whitney out myself.”
“You could just look at it now, though. Downside is...”
“There are eyes and ears around, I know.”
“In that case...”
Their tones flowed together in perfect sync, like two people sharing a private joke.
“Next ti we et, I’ll make sure to serve a proper cup of tea.”
“I’ve already built up a bit of poison resistance, so I’ll manage.”
“Ahaha~”
“Fufufu.”
In the very garden where soone had just died minutes earlier, their laughter rang out together—cold, spine-chilling, and in perfect harmony.
The attendants who were still dragging the servant’s body away felt their blood run cold.
Thus was born the most terrifying duo in the Empire.
‘Whitney Lingarden... might actually be a useful card.’
‘What is this girl thinking? Is she planning to poison again if I screw up?’
It seed like their thoughts couldn’t be more different.
***
And yet, strangely cheerful for once, rdia saw Whitney off with efficiency and even politeness.
“...What the hell?”
Several dozen minutes later, back in her room, the source of all that chaos now behind her, rdia locked the door and opened the envelope.
Inside, she found a single docunt.
[Marriage Proposal]
“What the hell does he want...?”
The only thing Whitney had left behind... was a formal proposal of marriage for the following morning.
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